The Devil's Spawn
by Insert a Catchy Penname Here
Summary: ***MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE FALL OF FIVE.*** Number Five was raised to be one thing, but he was destined to be another. And none of the Loric truly get how hard it is to constantly to be torn in yourself, and to ultimately be what you were taught to be: A monster as vicious as the devil's spawn itself.


The Devil's Spawn

_**Author Note:**_ Don't get me wrong, friends. I HATE Number Five for what he did to poor Eight. I LOVED EIGHT. ;_;

But after thinking about, Five can't really help who he is. Think about it: He was on Earth for six months when the Mogs captured him. His Cepan was _dead. _And he was just a kid, about four years of age.

Enjoy this daily dose of feels. ^^.

* * *

"Alfred?" Outside in the rainy, misty streets of Manhattan, people were passing, couples and parents with their children alike, all blissfully unaware of the trauma that was unfolding in front of the small Loric boy. "Alfred, time to wake up..."

He shook his protector a bit, only managing to move the arm of the elder. Weeks of illness had been taking a toll on the two of them, especially the older Cepan, who'd caught this disease only two months after they landed on Earth. Now his charge continued to shake his arms in hopes of waking him again, though that'd proven a challenge in recent days. The only problem was that he wasn't responding at all this time. This immediately sent the boy into panic.

"Alfred!" he shouted at the top of his tiny lungs. "Alfie, wake up!"

He launched himself onto the old Loric man, jumping up and down in his stomach desperately. It was to no avail though; His worn heart had simply had too much. The little boy was refusing to believe this, though, and kept jumping and shouting the Cepan's name for all his worth. He didn't think of this at the time, but he obviously did not go unheard by the neighbors. Pounding at the sent only panicked the child further and inspired him to scramble under the bed, clenching his tony, chubby fists into fists. Moments later the door banged open.

"Sir?" The attendant's voice sounded soft, afraid. "Sir, are you alright?"

There was no response. The attendant's footsteps were rapid as he exited, and this only caused the young child to panic further. He had no idea what he was supposed to do if his father figure was gone, and the thought that he was now completely alone terrified him. So, he did the only thing he really knew how to do at that point:

He ran.

* * *

"Monsters!" That was the word Alfred had taught him to use when speaking of the 'bad guys', and it was all he could think to yell as he was cornered.

The one directly in front of him looked much different than the ones who'd been chasing him all around the city that night. While they looked like beasts and blood thirsty, this man almost looked human, minus to milk-white skin and piercing dark eyes. Five clutched the piece of glass he'd found in the ally they'd chased him into for all of his worth, trying not to pay attention to the blood it was drawing from his skin. The man cornering him gave a pointed-tooth grin, suddenly kneeling in front of him like Alfred used to. Five studied him cynically, wondering whether or not he should stab out his eyes.

"Do not worry, little one." His grin grew wider as he spoke. "We will not hurt you. We're the good guys."

"Not what Alfie said!" Five barked, rearing his tiny arm back to try and hurt the enemy.

"But he's dead," the Mogodorian pointed out. "Do you want to die too, little one?"

The five year old hesitated. Of _course _he didn't want to die- then he couldn't grow up to be big and strong and go home! But still, Alfred said they were the bad guys. But this man seemed...different. The child slowly lowered the glass, making his unknown new master flash a wicked girn.

"You won't regret this decision, my boy."

Five's fatal mistake was believing that fully.

* * *

Though through the years he'd been raised to be convinced that he was one of their own, he always knew that he was different. All of the children always either kept their different or treated him with some level of respect they lacked for each other, like they were afraid of him. Instead of learning about his new family's ways like the other children did after classes, he was trained by a scientist who didn't seem to be all that sane. He never felt completely secure with himself, despite his father's constant orders to deal with his emotions and his mother gentle coaxing. The fact he was growing up with two older brothers wasn't exactly assuring, either, especially when one was already a general.

The night after he turned nine years old was the night his real insecurities began, however.

While the other Mogodorians were celebrating the recent death of Number One, he felt a sudden sharp pain in his leg. He couldn't help but cry out, falling out of the chair he was watching the party in and clutching his leg. Quite a few turned around to watch the Loric boy scream in agony, withering about the ground as a scar that was purely Loric sizzling into his flesh.

Despite the mad scientist's futile attempts to close over the skin, it was simply not done. The symbol that marked him as Loric would not heal over or go away, just lose some of the raw agony it caused. With the wardrobe of the children, he was able to cover it up almost entirely, but everybody knew it was there. Everybody truly knew he did not belong.

He was always reminded who he was.

* * *

"Help me!" Five was frantic as his body changed from a watery form, to a granite, to a steel.

"Whoa, little buddy..." His cousin, who just happened to visiting, got a firm hold on his arm. It felt a bit weird, considering his frailness compared to his own stockiness, but it was enough to make him pause his freaking out.

"What?!" The Loric boy's eyes were wide, full of fear he'd grown to not have.

"What about that thing you had when your Cepan died?" Unlike most Mogodorians, his cousin's voice was brimmed with patience and slight pity. "That thing that looks like a chest with the weird objects in it might have something to help."

Five desperately nodded, scrambling to his room and pulling it down from the one shelf he had. He rummaged around desperately, finding two balls- one rubber and one steel- and something that looked like a classroom prism. The second he touched both balls, his skin turned to match it, making him cry out in despair. His cousin merely scooped up the prism, lightly touching it against his shaking hand. Though his heart remained pounding and full of adrenaline, the eleven year old suddenly felt his skin untense. Before his eyes, the steel that was there moments ago faded to his normal skin tone, leaving both young males to stare in shock.

Gratefully, the non-Mog looked up at his cousin. "Thank you, Adamus."

The twelve-year-old smiled in return, a bit satisfied he could help for once. "No problem."

* * *

His mind was not on the small festivitiesbeing thrown for him in honor of his mission to kill the remaining Loric. Rather, it was on the fact that he was finally going to meet his fellow Loric, and the fact that his only friend had recently betrayed the Mogodorians to help them.

He wasn't truly sure how he was supposed to feel. The three scars still burnt into his leg was a very clear reminder that he _was _Loric himself, and that his 'cousin' was fully Mogodorian. Five had grown to resent the Loric or anything else that got in the way of the Great Expansion, and yet Adamus, whom was the raised the same way as he, was rebelling against his own kind. It was almost like he was filling the void the others did not know Five had created for the Elder they were to suceed; the true Loric teenager couldn't help but resent that.

The part of them that was still tying him to his true race, though, couldn't help but wonder if his beloved cousin was right.

* * *

He couldn't help but be on age, even when he was supposed to be relaxed and blend in. Numbers Nine and Six were onto him somehow, and all three of them knew it.

The sixteen year old tiredly sank into the too-soft fabric of the mattress in his temporary room, his eyes boring into the ceiling. He longed to go for a fly, to just get away from both conflicting races. He couldn't help but long to a be a normal human, or a normal _anything._ The Loric may have all been friends and such, but they didn't accept yet. He didn't fit in with them, he'd never pass as a human, and he never even was raised equally among the people who raised him.

Number Five was a lone wolf, and he couldn't tell if he loved that fact or hated it.

* * *

_Traitorous piece of shit. _

Those words rang in his mind as he laid in agony of the ground, 'his' people surrounding him. Some were screaming at him to get up and finish them off, others were demanding to know about his eye and condition. He just laid there, tuning out their screams with the ringing in his head and ripped shreds of his heart. He'd lost his temper just when it seemed he was going to have a chance to belong somewhere, and he killed one of the Loric who he wanted and almost _needed _to have on his side.

_I killed him_, he thought miserably as what they called him rang constantly in his head, seeming to be in loop. _I killed Number Eight, and Number Seven took my eye. I killed him. _

His first kill was far less than enjoyable. In fact, it even broke his heart.

* * *

_You don't think I know what I am? You only reminded me that night in Florida. I am a traitorous piece of shit that deserves to rot in hell, but I can't just yet. All I know is that I am going to complete what I was raised to do. It's really all I've got at this point; I am not one of you. Just know that I am aware I will burn in hell with every other Mogodorian you manage to kill. After all, I am one of them. It's all I can be. _

_If I am the devil's spawn, then I might as well live up to it. All I've got to say is you better figure out how to watch all sides at first._

_-Number Five. _


End file.
